


Wait for the Sound

by Las



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Las/pseuds/Las
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Novak comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait for the Sound

Amelia is crying.

Jimmy never knows how to deal with it when Amelia cries, so he finds himself crying too, touching her face as she touches his and they can't believe it, they just can't. He kisses her and she lets out another sob.

"It's you," she says, a smile struggling to get past the tears, and Jimmy nods yes, yes, it's him. "You're back, it's really you," and Jimmy says yes, kisses her and says yes, holds her close as she cries into his shirt, and he says her name over and over again. He hasn't said it for so long.

+

They make love all afternoon. He hadn't planned to; he doesn't want to push for anything when he still feels like an intruder here, but when Amelia fiddled with the coffeemaker, Jimmy felt compelled to slip his arms around her waist and kiss the back of her neck. The next thing he knows, Amelia has turned around and wrapped her arms around him. She kisses his mouth.

They barely make it up the stairs. Jimmy's tie falls on the fifth step, Amelia's cardigan on the eighth. He mouths her neck as he struggles to unbutton his shirt, and in frustration he just pulls the damn thing open, which makes Amelia laugh. He has missed that laugh.

They fall on her bed, a smaller bed now, and the first round goes about as fast as you'd expect. After it's done they lie facing each other, and Jimmy reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Amelia leans forward and presses soft little kisses on his face, gentle brushes of warm skin, each more insistent than the last. They shift closer and closer until they are in each other's arms again, and this time they take their time, tasting, touching – a true rediscovery. Jimmy watches her head tip back and expose that beautiful throat; he licks the sweat off it. He tangles his hand in her hair.

She straddles him, balancing on her knees, her arms around his neck, and she goes slow. Amelia goes slow and slower, and he would accuse her of teasing him were it not for the look on her face – attuned, alight, as desirous as he feels. Jimmy wants nothing more than to flip them around and fuck Amelia into the mattress, but he lets her take the reins, set the pace. He used to be so malleable in her hands, and it feels good to submit to her again, to be at her mercy, completely surrounded by her ways and her desires and intentions, her parted lips, her bright eyes, her soft skin, golden hair brushing his face, soft. He murmurs her name against her neck, hands on her waist as he steadies her, and she moans low in her throat, a breathless sound.

"Jimmy," she whispers, and sinks down, sinks deep. She is shaking – with pleasure, with effort, restraint. She rests her forehead against his, and he almost can't take it.

"Ame—" he starts to say, but then she raises her hips and thrusts down hard, and he moans. She does it again, and again, faster, harder, and Jimmy is driven wild, she is pushing him to the edge. She cries out, clenching around him, and that is it. He is gone. Jimmy clutches her close to him and fucks her up and down his cock, riding out their orgasms. They don't bother to keep their voices down.

They collapse back onto the bed, spent, panting. Amelia murmurs, "Wow."

"What?"

She smiles at him, and then she giggles and shakes her head.

He grins back. "What?"

But Amelia just shakes her head and continues laughing, laughing as she rolls up against his side and buries her face in his shoulder.

"Something funny to you?" Jimmy asks, putting his arm around her.

"Nope," she says and gives him a peck on the lips. "Everything's fine," and he thinks Amelia is going to go in for another kiss, but she pauses an inch away and _now_ she is teasing. Jimmy chuckles, cups her face, and kisses her. He closes his eyes and they start all over again.

+

"University of Chicago?" Jimmy raises his eyebrows. "No kidding."

"Scholarship," Amelia adds, and suddenly Jimmy is so proud of his daughter, absurdly proud. He thinks of the years he didn't spend haranguing her about homework and SAT prep and college applications and curfews, wonders what those years were like, how Amelia did it, how Claire did it. Her high school graduation photo is framed on top of the mantle. She looks so happy and so beautiful that out of all the improbable things Jimmy has experienced in the past handful of years, this feels closest to a miracle.

Amelia holds out her cellphone to him.

"You don't think..." Jimmy says, staring at it in his hands. "What if she... Would she even...? I mean. What if she has finals to study for?"

"Stop being stupid."

Claire's voice comes clear as a bell, a little deeper now, but Jimmy thinks he would recognize the sound anywhere.

"Hi Mom," she says. "What's up?"

Jimmy says, "Hi Claire," and completely fails at keeping his voice from cracking.

By the end of the conversation, Jimmy is crying again and so is Claire, and Amelia, who has been leaning against the doorway, watches with her eyes glistening and her hand over her mouth.

"Dad, I'm really sorry but I have to go," Claire sobs, her voice pitching higher with the effort to control it. "My battery's dying haha oh god it sounds like I'm crying over my battery dying, Dad—"

"It's okay, honey, it's okay," Jimmy says, not in any better of a condition. "You do what you need to do."

"I can't believe it."

"Believe it," he says, and then he laughs, and Amelia laughs, then Claire laughs, and somehow this makes him cry harder.

"I'll visit real soon," Claire says. "I'm going to see you."

"You sure? Maybe your mother and I can go up there—"

"No, I'll come home. I'm coming home."

"Okay."

"I'm coming home, Dad."

Jimmy makes an embarrassing sound as he tries to fight another sob. "Okay."

+

He is wearing Amelia's baggiest sweatpants and a shirt that says 'DELA-WHERE?'

"Christmas present from my brother," Amelia explains, rolling her eyes. She grew up outside of Wilmington, though everywhere in Delaware is just outside of Wilmington, she had said to him when they first met.

Jimmy just stands in front of her closet for a while, freshly showered, running his hand over her clothes and surprised at the memory they evoked. A blue blouse she often wore to church. Her La Salle University t-shirt that she'd wear to do housework. (Strands of hair coming loose from her ponytail. He remembers vividly Amelia taking off the hair-tie to rearrange it into a bun; he remembers the gold glint of it when she shook it out, halo catching the light.) It fascinated him, what changed and what stayed the same. Yes, this sweater, he remembers this sweater. Does Amelia still wear it as often?

They order in, and Amelia orders his usual orange chicken and fried pork dumplings without having to ask. Jimmy answers the door when the food comes and is generous with the tip, then he and Amelia eat it in the kitchen with candles and wine, Sade playing in the background. She's always loved Sade; he remembers this too. Dancing to 'Soldier of Love' in their hotel room that time they went to Cape Cod for a long weekend.

Halfway through the crab rangoons, it occurs to Jimmy that no one in this new city knows who he is.

"It's not like your friends here have seen pictures of me, right?" he says. "They have no idea who I am. Maybe I can be your second husband. We'll put on a show."

"But I like my first husband," Amelia says, amused.

"I can be Gustav, the mysterious stranger you met on a weekend retreat."

" _Gustav?_ What about when we go to see my parents?" She points her chopsticks at him. "They know you're no Gustav."

"We'll get them in on it!"

"We'll get them—" Amelia laughs. "You haven't had enough of being someone else already?"

"Maybe I'm Quentin, the dashing artist who drew you nude."

"Was I nude or was Quentin?"

"Both. We were both nude. Don't you remember?"

"You can barely draw your way out of a paper bag."

"Gregory Thermidor Winthrop, lost heir and occasional lion-tamer."

"I _like_ Jimmy Novak.." Amelia leans forward on her elbows, the wine putting a flush in her cheeks. She smiles, and Jimmy notices the lines around her eyes and mouth. Those are new. Jimmy, on the other hand, has not aged beyond the day Castiel took him. "He's still in there, right?" she teases. "Jimmy, are you in there?"

"What about Fernando Mazatlan?" he muses. "NASCAR driver and equestrian prodigy—"

"Well, I'm sorry, Fernando, but I can't talk right now. I'm waiting for my goof of a husband to get back to me so he can help me finish these crab rangoons."

"Fernando Mazatlan likes crab rangoons," Jimmy wheedles.

"Well, he's gonna have to get his own. These ones are for Jimmy." She pops one in her mouth and says, "If he doesn't come back soon, I'm going to eat them all."

"So, what, we're gonna tell your friends you're getting back together with your husband? We've seen the error of our ways?"

Amelia shrugs. "People come back sometimes."

"Can I have those crab rangoons now?"

"Depends. Who are you?"

He extends his hand across the table. "Hi, I'm Jimmy Novak."

Amelia takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, she kisses his fingertips. She smiles at him, and it is the most beautiful thing he has seen in years. "It's good to have you back."


End file.
